Page 121 of Craving Venom

“Yeah. Just for the game.”

“Since when do you give a fuck about football?”

Tria butts in before I can respond. “Oh my God, Britt, just give her the damn jersey. It’s not that deep.”

Britt sighs dramatically but turns toward her locker. “Fine, fine. But if you so much as stretch it, you’re dead. Trevor hates it when his jerseys get ruined.”

As she rummages through her collection—because of course Britt hoards every piece of football memorabilia she can get her hands on—I stare down at my hands, a dull knot forming in my stomach.

I am using Trevor.

There’s no other way to spin it.

He’s never been anything but nice to me. I shouldn’t even be thinking about using him just to put on a show, but what other choice do I have?

Zane had told me to find a boyfriend, hadn’t he?

Fine. Maybe Trevor won’t be my boyfriend, but if Zane happens to see me wrapped up in someone safe, someone who isn’t him, then maybe he’ll back off.

Britt, oblivious to my internal crisis, shrugs and turns to her locker. She pulls out a folded jersey and tosses it at me. “Here. Just return it in one piece. Trevor hates when his jerseys get ruined.”

I catch it, rubbing the soft fabric between my fingers. “Got it.”

Tria elbows me, already grinning. “See? This is fate. You and Trevor—”

I tune her out.

Because this isn’t fate. This is me being desperate.

I slide the jersey over my head as we take our seats. I stare at the field, watching the players run drills. The game hasn’t started yet, but the energy is already high.

I don’t care.

Football has never interested me.

So my eyes wander, and I find Zane leaning against a tree in the distance. A cigarette is dangling from his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. His hoodie is pulled up, his stance casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s watching me.

We lock eyes.

And suddenly, everything else fades.

I don’t know how long we stare at each other. A second? A minute? It stretches into something that makes the hair on my arms stand up.

The longer I look, the scarier he becomes.

It’s fucking weird that my body reacts to the fear, to the knowledge that if he walked over here right now, there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do to stop him.

I know I should look away, but I can’t, not until Tria suddenly jumps on me, wrapping her arms around me in an excited hug. I jolt, the spell shattering as reality rushes back in, grounding me. Around us, the crowd erupts, cheers and whistles filling the air.

I blink, trying to catch up. “What the fuck?”

Tria grins, still hugging me. “We scored!”

I glance at the scoreboard, my brain scrambling to switch gears, to process anything other than the way my body still buzzes from locking eyes with the one person who should never have this kind of power over me.

My phone pings. I already know who it is. I should ignore it. I should focus on the game, on Tria, on anything that isn’t Zane Valehart, but I don’t have self-control.

I don’t have self-respect.

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